The morning wind had died down. Raul sighed and got up to sweep the sand that had blown under the door of the little hotel. He’d long since given up trying to clean while the wind was still howling. A few years ago some Hollywood guy had decided the little town of Deserito would be the perfect location for shooting a Gene Autry western. But the crew had spent most of their time trying to get the grit out of their equipment. There were no more movies made in Deserito.
Raul dumped the dustpan full of sand in the ashtray urn and went back to his newspaper. The navy had stopped the Japs in a big battle around Australia.
Great. Just so they finish this war before the draft board comes for me.
Before he could get any farther into the story, the priest came down the stairs.
“Father Glennon. Did you sleep well? I trust your room was comfortable.”
“Oh, yes. Everything was first-rate.”
“Good. Let me help you with the bags.”
“That’s very kind of you,” said Father Glennon, handing him a white overnight bag. He pulled his hat down as he stepped out the door. “The wind was certainly loud this morning. Is it always like that?”
“Yes, Father. The wind will sandblast the paint right off your car eventually.” He set the white case in the trunk and stepped aside for the priest to put his suitcase in.
“You can leave the trunk open, Raul. Sister Dolores has another bag to put in.”
Back inside the nun was wrestling the last bag down.
“Here, sister, let me take that!”
“Thank you, sir. It is rather heavy.”
Tits like that on a nun—what a waste!
Raul touched his forehead.
I should not think such thoughts.
He touched his chest.
Especially about a bride of Christ.
He touched his shoulder.
I am a disgusting sinner.
The other shoulder.
I shall surely burn in Hell.
But he didn’t stop smiling, and he didn’t take his eyes off her swaying ass as she crossed the lobby.
Next door to the hotel, three men were backing out of the bank.
“This ain’t a movie folks,” the last one shouted. “We don’t need any heroes!” Just for fun he fired a shot over the tellers’ heads and they dropped to the floor.
Outside a Ford sedan pulled up and the doors popped open. Two of the bank robbers paused and fired randomly at buildings along the street.
“Keep yer heads down, rubes!”
The third man snatched the white overnight back from the trunk of Father Glennon’s car and tossed in an identical bag.
In the hardware store across the street a woman pressed against the front window and gawked at the scene. “Mr. George!” she yelled to the proprietor. “Call the sheriff! Somebody’s stickin’ up the bank!”
“No good!” he yelled back. “The phone ain’t workin’. And get away from that window!”
Inside the bank someone asked “How much you reckon they got?”
“Eighty thousand,” the bank manager said, his face buried in his hands. “The payroll for all the mines. EIGHTY THOUSAND!”
Father Glennon, Sister Dolores and Raul watched from the front window as the car disappeared in the dust.
“Goodness,” Sister Dolores said.
Guy loosened his collar as he drove. Lola took off her coif and ran her fingers through her thick blonde hair.
“You know, I wouldn’t mind being a real priest. All the rubes are so nice to you!”
“Well, I never want to be a nun again.” Lola lit a cigarette off the end of her last one. “At least the priest gets to smoke when he wants to.”
“You smoke too much anyway.” Guy rolled down his window. A few miles outside of Deserito he pulled the car off the road behind a clump of mesquite just high enough to hide the car. “Let’s ditch these outfits before we go any farther. And change the licence plate.”
“Why don’t I get the loot out of the trunk and count it?”
“Wait til we get where we’re going. We’ll count it together.”
“You don’t trust me, do you Guy?”
Guy smiled a little. “Of course I do, kitten. I just know arithmetic ain’t your strong suit.”
They stood by the car undressing, Guy quickly, Lola slowly.
“Say,” Guy murmured. “Did I ever tell you about the nun who taught me geography in the ninth grade?”
“Oh? Should I be jealous?”
“Nah. She was just a dream. I like the real thing.”
The car rolled though another cracker box desert town even smaller than the one they’d just left.
“This is Agujero,” Guy said. “We’re just a few miles from the hideout.”
“What a hole. I wish Red had given us a map instead of making us memorize the directions.”
As they passed a seedy café a young man was stepping inside. He wore dungarees, a flannel shirt and a cowboy hat that was obviously new. Inside, the red-haired, freckled waitress was talking through the serving hatch to someone in the kitchen. The man dropped onto a stool and spoke to her back.
“Hey, Annie! Does Daddy Warbucks know you’re working in a greasy spoon?”
“Oh. You.” She turned to scowl at him. “You want somethin’ to eat, or did you just come in to heckle?”
“Can’t I do both?” he grinned. “Hey, why don’t you go out with me tonight?”
“Go out and do what? Stand on the corner and listen to the crickets?”
“Aw, how about it, kid? I’m not such a bad guy once you get to know me!”
“From what I hear, there ain’t much to know.”
The smile drained from the man’s face. He got up and started for the door.
“I—I’m sorry. I shouldna said that.”
“That’s okay,” he said softly. “The offer still stands. See you next time I’m in town.”
“You know, we don’t have to stop and wait for Red and the boys to show up,” Lola murmured. “What if we just keep going to Mexico?”
“What are you talking about, Lola?”
“I’m talking about splitting the haul two ways instead of six. We’d have enough for the rest of our lives!”
“IX-NAY! If we crossed Red the rest of our lives wouldn’t amount to much!”
“Give it some thought, lover. The world is big enough to hide from anybody if you’ve got the lettuce.”
“I already gave it all the thinking it needs. Forget about it.”
They were silent for a few minutes before Lola said, “What if Red decides the just split it four ways?” Guy glared at her but said nothing.
A few miles outside the last town they spotted the house. It was a two-story Victorian of weathered wood that had once been a fine place. Now any paint that had been on it was mostly sandblasted off. Around it ran a veranda with a few remaining rails and broken spindles. The front door stood open, hanging from its one attached hinge.
Guy pulled up to the house.
“Well. It fits the description.”
“Remind me to thank Red for the classy accommodations,” Lola grunted. “I bet there are goddamn rattlesnakes in there. Let’s sleep upstairs. Snakes can’t climb stairs, can they?”
Guy tried to push the front door open, but it broke away from its hinge and fell on the floor with a thunderous crack.
“And the inside is just as charming. C’mon, Lola. Let’s find a table and count the dough.”
The big ground floor room was covered with sand that had blown in the broken door and drifted up against the walls. There were still a few wooden chairs and a trestle table. Guy wiped sand and dust off the table and began unpacking the money while Lola walked around the room looking in doors.
“Now we’ll see how much the boys glommed!”
Lola opened the door to a small room and saw a mattress and some scattered clothes on the floor.
“Guy!” she hissed. “Pack up the dough! There’s somebody living here!”
There wasn’t much in the room. A dingy mattress, some blankets, a few clothes hung on pegs.
“Look,” Lola pointed. “They’ve even got a radio. They must have settled in here for a long stay.”
“I think it’s just one man. There are only a few clothes, all men’s.”
“Well, if it’s just one man, we can handle him. One way or another. Let’s count the dough.”
The young man in the new Stetson looked down the empty road. I wonder if I used to hitchhike. He started walking again, then heard the roar and rattle of a truck approaching. The truck ground to a stop. The window rolled down and the waitress from the diner tossed out a beer bottle.
“Hi, Shirley. Or should I say ‘Howdy, ma’am?’”
“Better stick with ‘Hello’ if you want to ride with me. Get in and hang on, I gotta get a runnin’ start at this hill.”
“I never saw you out this way before. Do you live around here?”
“No. Just drivin’ around some before they start to ration gas.”
“Not a lot to see out here.”
“Nope. You want a beer—“
“Alan. My name is Alan.”
“So what are you doin’ out here?”
“Not a whole hell of a lot.”
“Well how do you live? You ain’t one o’ those crazy desert rats that thinks he’s gonna find a lost gold mine, are you?”
Alan laughed.
“Nope. Silver. I have a cache of silver I can always fall back on.”
“Huh?”
Alan put his index finger to his temple. “Right here, Shirley. I have a hunk of pure silver where my skull used to be.”
“So you are one o’ those crazy guys!”
As they reached to top of the grade the engine began to clatter.
“I gotta put some oil in, but don’t try anything—I got a six-shooter!”
“You have nothing to fear from me,” he laughed. Alan slid down from the truck and walked into the grass at the edge of the road. “It’s nice up here. You can see so far.”
Shirley slammed the hood of the truck. “Yeah. I like comin’ up here. To see trees and stuff. They shoulda built the town up here.”
Alan sipped his beer. “I like trees,” he said quietly.
They each sat on a boulder and drank quietly for a few minutes. Finally Shirley said, “You know I gotta ask—what are you doin’ here?”
“Well, everybody has to be somewhere, don’t they? I tried going back to where I grew up but…I didn’t know any of the people I met. Nothing was familiar. It was like a crazy dream where everything is just a little off.”
“Then it’s true what they say about you.”
“What do they say about me?”
“Well, some say you got amnesia.”
“I guess that’s close.”
“And some people think you did a clean sneak outta the bug house.”
“What do you think?”
Shirley shrugged. “I’ve known goofier guys.”
“I’ll give you the straight dope. The Readers’ Digest version. It happened when I was in the army—“
“Oh! A war wound.”
“Not so dramatic. They took me in the peacetime draft. There was an accident during training. Defective equipment, they told me. An explosion. A bit of metal went right in here.” Alan tapped his head again. “Took out most of my memory.…Guys who knew me said I wasn’t the same without that piece of brain.”
“How so?”
“They said I used to be a real hot head, got mad real easy.”
“You don’t size up that way to me.”
Alan looked at the hills in the distance, almost indistinguishable from the night sky. “It gets dark fast out here, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s time I headed back to town.”
They rode without talking, over the hills and back to flatland.
“This is my squat,” Alan said as they approached a dark shape set back from the road. “Thanks for the ride, Shirley. And the beer. I’ll see you when I’m in town again.”
“Yeah, see you around.”
As Alan slid off the seat of the truck he saw a dim glow behind and upstairs window.
Lola pulled the blanket off the bed and gave it a shake.
“Well, from the looks of the dust, nobody’s been here for a long time.”
“Yeah, except for whoever is living downstairs.”
“Guy! I think I heard a car! Could it be Red and the boys already?”
“Get away from that window, you sap!” Guy dug an automatic out of his bag and stuck it in his waistband under his shirt. “Whoever it is, I’m ready for them!”
Guy stepped out onto the landing and leaned on the balustrade.
“Guy—” Lola whispered.
“Shut up!”
Alan looked up. “Who’s in here?”
“Hi, cowboy!” Guy sounded as jovial as a traveling salesman as he started down the stairs. “I’m Guy Nolan. Do you live here? I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Well, nobody lives here. I’m a squatter.”
“I was driving through and all of a sudden got too sleepy to go any farther. So my wife and I decided to camp out here.”
“Your wife?”
“Hey, Lola honey, come on down and meet our host!’
Lola lit a candle and leaned over the balustrade. “I hope you’ll forgive our intruding on you, Mr.—“
“Smith. Alan Smith. Nothing to forgive, ma’am. As I was telling Mr. Nolan, I’m just squatting here. I only use one room.”
Guy lit some more candles on the trestle table.
“Oh, much better, sweetheart” Lola said. “Not so creepy!”
“Don’t worry, Lola. If Karloff shows up Alan and I will protect you. Right, Alan?”
“Uh…right,” Alan mumbled. “Say, why don’t we have a drink? I’ve got some rye, if that’s okay.”
“Lola never turns down a drink. Let’s drink to our new friend, Alan!”
They drank a toast, and then another.
“Well, I hate to be a party pooper,” Guy said, “but I’m dead on my feet.”
“Yes, it’s been a long day,” Lola agreed. “We’ll see you in the morning. Good night…Alan.”
Back upstairs Lola giggled. “Did you see the way that kid was giving me the up and down?”
“Looks like you made a conquest.”
“My cleavage by candlelight—gets ‘em every time. I’m guessing he’s fresh off the farm and never been kissed.”
“I think young Smith might be some use to us.”
“Don’t worry. When I turn it on he won’t know his ass from his elbow.”
Guy grabbed Lola and held her close.
“It ain’t his ass I’m thinking about!”
In the morning Alan and Guy sat on the veranda at the back of the house having the worst coffee Guy had ever tasted.
“And that’s how I came to be here,” Alan finished.
“Wow! That’s a sad story!”
“So what brings you and the missus out here?”
“Oh, I’m in the naval reserve. I won’t be called up for a couple more months, so we decided to do some traveling. No special plans. In fact, we were talking last night about staying here for a while—if you don’t mind.”
Lola pushed open the screen door. “We promise to behave ourselves.”
“I’d be happy for the company, ma’am.”
“Guy, honey, we don’t have much food. I thought I’d drive back to that last town and stock up, if it’s okay with you.”
“Sure, babe. Maybe Alan would like to ride along.”
Lola drove sitting as far back in the seat, her arms stretched straight out, her body completely relaxed. They rode in silence. Alan was used to not talking, but after a time he felt he should make the effort.
“So, uh, have you and Guy been married long?”
“Not so long, just a coupla years.”
Lola seemed to muse for a moment. Alan thought the conversation was over, but she added in a deeper, slower voice “I’ve always been happiest when there’s a man in my life.”
Alan laughed. “So you can’t be happy without a man?”
Again Lola paused. “At least one.” She looked at him, without expression, then turned back to the road.
Alan looked out the window and said nothing more. He was aware that his jeans were a little snugger than they had been.
In Agujero Alan went to the diner while Lola shopped. Again he found Shirley with her back to him, talking to the old cook.
“Hey, Shirley, yer boyfriend’s here!” the cook grinned.
“He ain’t my boyfriend!” she hissed back at him.
“I guess he comes all the way into town for the Q-zine!”
“Uh, yeah. That must be it.”
“Well, stop blushin’ and go take his order!”
Shirley walked around the counter to Alan’s table.
“What’ll ya have, Tex?”
“What’s good?”
“Ya wouldn’t want me to lie to you, would ya?”
Alan leaned back and smiled. “Not about anything important.”
Shirley looked away and said softly, “You remember the day the bank got knocked over in Deserito?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You were sayin’ somthin’ about...”
“Say, Shirley—when do you get off here? I bet we could find something to do in this town.”
“Well,” she drawled. “I guess I ain’t got nothin’ better to do. I’ll bring you the pork roast, that ain’t killed nobody all day.”
As Shirley was giving the order to the cook, Lola sauntered into the diner and dropped fluidly into the chair opposite Alan.
“Say,” the cook said. “Who’s that dolly?”
Shirley turned to look. “I dunno. Customer, I hope.”
“Huh. That kinda dame is trouble. She stinks of it.”
“…So I don’t need a ride back,” Alan was telling Lola.
She stood, dropped her cigarette on the floor and stepped on it.
“Well, have fun, Alan. I’ll see you back at the haunted mansion.”
Shirley waited until Lola was out the door before she carried the plate to Alan’s table.
“Who’s the tomato?”
“Her? That’s Mrs. Nolan. She gave me a ride in. Mmm, that smells good. She and her husband stopped at the house where I’, squatting.”
“How romantic.” She frowned at the floor. “I guess she’s from where they don’t use ashtrays. Well, time to sweep up, anyway. Then I’ll be ready to check out the local night life.”
The only night life in Agujero was a small tavern where a few miners drank sullenly and an old desert rat regaled them with stories of lost silver mines in exchange for a drink. It got old fast and they decided to drive into the hills again. Shirley parked her truck so they could sit in the bed drinking beer and watching the moon. There wasn’t a lot to say. They stayed until the moon was high and the beer was gone, then drove to Alan’s squat.
“Well,” Shirley said, “I guess there’s some fun to be had around her.”
Alan slid across the seat and kissed her. Shirley returned his kiss enthusiastically. “Watch the hands, Tex,” she whispered. “Remember, I’m armed.” They kissed some more, but that was as far as it went.
As the truck pulled away Alan stood and watched it.
That Shirley’s something to think about. But she made me too horny to think!
It didn’t help that the Nolans had taken the room above his. They made the bedsprings sing for an incredibly long time, to his discomfort. But as he pulled the blanket up over him he heard only a few squeaks. A pause. More squeaks. Quiet. A few angry words. Alan sighed and let himself doze off.
The bedsprings remained quiet for several nights. Alan spent the days walking in the hills or dozing on the veranda. The Nolans went for drives together or separately. They weren’t talking much to each other, Alan noticed; but Lola was talking to him more, smiling more and staring baldly at him. Then one afternoon as when they were in the kitchen, Lola pushed him against the wall and pressed her body against his. Her lips pressed against his and her tongue slipped into his mouth. Alan responded, and Lola pressed herself tighter against him. Too soon they heard Guy coming down the stairs. Alan slipped out the back door and walked into the hills to compose himself.
He was dozing stretched on in a pine grove when he smelled cigarette smoke.
“Be careful smoking in the woods,” he said when she appeared. “You could start a forest fire.”
Lola sat beside him. “Is that what’s on your mind? Forest fires?”
“You know what’s on my mind.”
“And you know what’s on mine. What’s the matter, don’t you like girls?”
“I like single girls.”
Lola placed her hand on his chest and rubbed gently. “Guy and I aren’t really married, it that really worries you.”
“Still.”
“Oh, we’ve been together a few years. It was fun for a while. But Guy’s an old man. He’s used up.”
“What do you want?”
“Someone young and virile. Someone like you.”
“What about Guy?”
“Don’t worry about him. I can handle Guy.”
“So we leave here together? That’s fine, babe, but we can’t live on lust. I’m on my uppers.”
Lola laughed and moved her had down to rub his hip.
“Money’s no problem. I have money. Lots of money. We can live on it for years.”
“Guy’s money?”
“Our money. He’ll share. He can’t afford to cross me. I know too much.”
“Enough for years, huh? Until you get tired of me?” Alan grinned.
“We’ll see. I don’t think much past tomorrow.”
He pulled her down to him.
“Let’s seal the deal.”
Alan woke to the sound of gunfire the next morning. Lola had taken up target practice to pass the time, and today she was behind the house shooting bottles off a log with an army .45.
“I’d hate to be the bottle you’re mad at. We’re going to have to start drinking more to keep you in targets,” Alan called. He took the pistol from her and hefted it. “Pretty heavy for shooting bottles, isn’t it?”
“I can handle it. Don’t worry about that. Set up some more.”
Alan grabbed some bottles and began setting them on the log. As he set the third one down it exploded in his hand.
“You see, Alan? When I set my sights on something, I don’t miss.”
Alan walked stiffly back to Lola. He held the remains of the bottle in her face, but she didn’t flinch.
“I ought to grind this into your goddamn face!”
“You wouldn’t like my face like that, would you, baby?”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“I told you when I set my sights on something, I get it. I’ve got you in my sights, Alan. I’m not going to let go.”
Their eyes locked. His curious, hers blank.
“What about Guy?”
“Don’t worry about Guy,” she snickered. “I told you I can take care of him.”
Lola turned back to the targets and raised the gun. Alan grabbed her wrist and pulled it down.
“What do you mean you’ll take care of Guy?”
“Don’t get dramatic,” Lola laughed. “He knows it’s over between us. He knows I don’t want him any more.”
The automatic snapped again and there were no more bottles standing.
“Leave Guy to me.”
Lola returned to the house; Alan followed and stood outside listening at a window. He could hear them talking but couldn’t understand what they were saying.
“Sounds like a lot of bottles bit the dust,” Guy was saying. “Give me the gat and I’ll put it away.”
“I’ll leave it here for now.” Lola laid the .45 on the trestle table. “I’m going to clean it later. Wait a minute, Guy. We need to talk. It’s time to make some plans.”
“There’s nothing to plan. We sit tight til Red and the boys show.”
“Stop being a chump! We have eighty grand. You’d settle for a third—when we could have it all!”
“We have a deal with Red.”
“You fool! When they get here do you think they’re really going to give us a split? A slug to the head, more likely!”
“Don’t worry about Red! I can take care of him!”
“Sure. You’re going to stand up to Red. Mr. Softy!”
Guy glared. “What did you call me?”
Lola laughed. “You heard me! Stand up to Red? You can’t even stand up to—”
Alan saw Guy punch Lola in the face, heard him shout “You cheap whore!”
He came though the door as Lola slapped Guy’s face and yelled “You pig!”
He saw her eyes fix on the gun on the table.
“NO!” Alan shouted, and made a grab for it. Lola went for it at the same time.
They were both holding it when the tremendous noise filled the room.
Alan and Lola stood still for an eternity. Guy didn’t move at all. He just lay on the sandy floor.
Lola went and felt his neck.
“He’s dead.”
She stood and faced Alan. Blood was tickling down her face.
Alan looked at the motionless body, unable to think of anything to say or do.
Finally he said, “I think he broke your nose.”
Lola came to him and kissed him. There was blood on her lips. Alan liked the metallic taste.
Lola lowered herself onto the floor. She lifted her skirt.
“Are you nuts?” Alan protested.
“You’ve vanquished your rival. Now it’s time to claim your prize.”
A large room at the town offices was set up with chair and a table for the inquest. Most of the seats were full when Alan arrived, and didn’t notice Shirley at first. He was able to give her a half smile when their eyes met.
The coroner was at a table at the front of the room with a stenographer. Alan had hardly sat when a bailiff stood and droned “This inquest is now in session. County coroner Russell Richards presiding. The first witness is Sheriff Robert Witham.”
The sheriff answered questions efficiently and dispassionately. Yes, his office had received a phone call from Buck Winter, who was the closest neighbour who had a telephone. A man had come to him and asked him to call the police, had said a man had been shot dead. A deputy from the substation here in town had been the first on the scene, closely followed by the sheriff and the local medic, Dr. Santiago. He went on to describe the scene he found.
Dr. Santiago testified that Guy Nolan had been shot in the chest with a large calibre handgun and had probably died within seconds.
Next it was Lola’s turn.
She had rounded up suitable mourning clothes. A black hat with a heavy veil, and a dress that was too large. Large enough to make her look remarkably sexless.
She took the chair at the end of the coroner’s table, holding a white handkerchief in her hands.
“Mrs. Nolan,” Richards began. “What were you doing immediately before the shooting?”
“I—I was target shooting behind the house. That was why the gun was out.”
The stenographer leaned over and whispered in Richards’s ear.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Nolan, but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to lift your veil while testifying.”
“Of course,” Lola murmured. She lifted the veil, giving the spectators a good look at the tape across her broken nose and the massive bruise around her eye.
Everyone in the room registered shock, quickly followed by an outraged growl. In the back of the room a woman leaned toward her husband and said “If he did that to her, he deserved to be shot!”
“Guy--my husband,” she continued, “had been drinking. We passed a few words. I guess he was looking for a fight. He started hitting me. I must have screamed because Mr. Smith came running in. we both went for the gun. He looked furious. Mr. Smith I mean. I thought he wanted to shoot Guy and I tried to grab the gun so he couldn't. We both got her hands on it and…and it went off.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Nolan. We’ll hear from Mr Smith now.”
“It's like Mrs. Nolan said,” Alan began. “Only I thought she was going to shoot him. I tried to wrestle the gun away from her. It went off somehow. Mrs. Nolan went to Mr. Nolan immediately but he was already dead. I drove to the nearest phone and had someone call the sheriff.”
“Well that's all Mr. Smith. You may return to your seat.”
There were a few more witnesses but the inquest was really over as soon as Lola lifted her veil
The coroner shuffled papers and cleared his throat a few times. “This is an unusual case. It could be self-defence in a sense, but I'm entering a verdict of accidental homicide. Therefore I recommend that no criminal charges be pursued. This inquest is closed. Mrs. Nolan, if we could get together there a few, uh, arrangements for us to work out.”
As Alan left the room Shirley looked at him, but he didn’t make eye contact.
“I feel lost.” Lola was looking out the front passenger’s window of the police car as the deputy drove her and Alan back to the house.
“I savvy that,” the deputy said. “All of a sudden alone in a strange place. Any idea what to do now?”
“I’ll go home, back to Pennsylvania. Mr. Richards—such a nice man—helped me arrange to have Guy sent to a mortuary back home. But the idea of driving all that way alone—it would take so long.”
They were silent for a few minutes.
“I wonder,” Lola asked, “is there a railroad station back in town?”
“No, ma’am. The nearest station is in Doggett, about twenty miles down this road.”
“I could take a train home. That would be so much better. But what would I do with the car?”
Alan cleared his throat. “If it helps, Mrs. Nolan, I could drive you to Doggett. Maybe I could buy the car from you.”
“Really? That would be helpful, Mr. Smith.”
“We can work something out.”
It was dark by the time the deputy drop them off back at their house. Lola lit candles while Alan pushed the door back in place.
“It’s been a long day,” Lola said. “I’m for some sleep.”
“I really hated giving you that black eye,” Alan said. “But you were right. Along with a broken nose--when you lifted your veil I could feel the anger in the room.”
Lola laughed. “Well it's not the first time I've been to court. You go in front of a jury of men with a broken nose and a shiner—that’s duck soup. If Guy was there they would have lynched him!”
“Do we sleep in your room or mine” Alan asked.
“You sleep in yours, I sleep in mine.”
“What the hell? Without Guy around--”
“Be smart, Alan. The woman whose husband was just killed living with a man who killed him—“
“What do you mean I killed?”
“Well that's what people will be wondering about. We can't afford to look like we're dizzy for each other now. For all we know the sheriff has somebody planted out there watching us.”
“I guess you're right.”
“That banana oil I was feeding the deputy—it was off the top of my head, but it would work. The smart thing would be for us to split up. I can go away and then you can meet me later. Tomorrow would be best.”
“What about the money?”
“What’s that?”
“I know you and Guy had a pot. I helped you get rid of him so you wouldn't have to split. I figure deserve a cut.”
“We didn't get rid of him! It was an accident. And you better remember that or we’ll both end up on the wrong end of a rope.”
“Don't kid me, Lola. We can't be tried twice for the same crime.”
“You’re a real dim bulb, Alan. That was just a coroner's inquest, not a trial. If we don't stick together we'll both end up screwed. Remember that.”
“Okay. See you in the morning. We’ll make some plans then.”
Lola climbed the stairs and fell heavily into the bed. But she forced herself to get up and lock the door.
In the morning Lola started down the stairs to find Alan coming up.
“Oh Alan.”
“Good morning, Lola. I was just coming up to see if you want breakfast. I got some coffee going but there's not much else.”
“Oh, that's okay, a whore’s breakfast will do me.”
“I'm sorry about last night. I guess I was kind of cranky. It was a tough couple of days.”
“Me too. We need to make some plans. I can't hang around here any longer. Here's what I'm thinking. You take me to the train as soon as I clean up. Wait a few days and then you can leave here. Hand me that paper bag.” Lola tore off a piece or paper and laboriously wrote on it. “This is the name of a hotel. It’s in a little town on the Gulf coast of Mexico. I’ll wait for you there.”
“Okay. And while you’re writing, I brought in the title from the car. You can sign it over.”
“We’re a pretty smart pair, ain’t we?” Lola pulled a roll of bills from her pocket and laid it on the table. “There’s a grand. You can go somewhere and dump the car and make your way to Mexico in style.”
Lola looked lovingly at the money. “I worked hard for that money,” she sighed. “Being with guy was no picnic. But you're much, much better. Much younger much more manly. We’re going to have a ball on that dough.”
Alan leaned over the table and kissed her. “More coffee?”
“No thanks. But if there’s any of that rye left I’ll have some after I wash up.”
Lola pushed the screen door open and looked the morning over. “As much as I hate this place, I gotta admit there’s kind of an empty beauty about it.”
“Oh by the way--what about Guy’s body?”
Lola laughed. “I remembered the name of a mortuary in Philadelphia and had him shipped there. Are they going to be surprised when he shows up! After a while somebody's going to think to check his fingerprints and find out who he is, but by that time we'll be far away from here.”
Lola sniffed herself as she walked across the yard. Oh, yeah. It’s bath time. I can’t wait to get back to the land of running water.
She lowered the bucket into the well and heard it hit rock. Three people there had put a strain on the water supply. Getting water up required her working the bucket around to get it to the deepest part of the well. As she leaned over looking into the well she felt her feet lose touch with the ground. She dropped down the shaft and hit head first with a little splash and a lot of thud.
Funny, Alan thought. In the movies people always scream when they’re falling.
First he covered the well with some boards and laid rocks on top so they wouldn’t blow away. So what if someone found the body and connected it to him? He touched his scalp where it covered the silver plate.
The worst they can do is send me to the bughouse for a while.
Alan looked around. Lola was right. There was a stark beauty about the place. But he appreciated it more than she had.
Upstairs Allen began to search what was room. He checked the closet and found only a few pieces of clothing. She traveled light. He got on his hands and knees to look under the bed. There was a small white bag. He pulled it out and popped the catch. Alan grinned. She didn't even bother to hide she was so sure of herself! He spread the money out on the bed and began to count. $82,227! And that dumb bitch thought she could buy me off for a grand and a roll in the hay!
As he was stashing the money back into the bag he heard a motor outside. He shoved the bag back under the bed and started down the stairs.
“Alan?”
“Yeah? Who is it?”
“It's me, Shirley. I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd say hello.”
“You just happened to be in the middle of nowhere?” Alan grinned.
“Well. I have some grub I thought maybe we could go into the hills for picnic. If you ain’t busy.”
“No, not at all. Sounds great.”
“I don't know what you do like…”
“I’ve been eating out of cans so long anything would be good.”
Shirley followed him into the kitchen. “So where’s the widow today?”
“Oh, we got up early today and I took her to Doggett to get a train.”
“I guess I kind of figured you two would go off together.”
“Her? No she's definitely not my type.” Alan picked up a knife and began wiping it on a towel. “I don't go for the flossy dames. You're the kind of girl who appeals to me.”
Shirley blushed violently.
“Not just the kind of girl. The one particular girl.”
“When they put that silver in your head they musta give you a silver tongue, too.”
“I mean it, Shirley.”
“You really oughta wash those vegetables before eating them.”
“Uh—no. Anything on the food is cleaner than the water in that well.” Alan laid the knife on the edge of the counter. “And don’t change the subject. Let’s you and me go away together.”
“You really mean it Allen? I’d love to get out of this hell hole. But what could we live on? I'm on my uppers.”
“Don't worry about that. I've got plenty.”
Shirley laughed. “I thought for a minute there you were serious.”
“I'm not kidding. I'm sitting on a pile of kale.”
“Aw don't kid me. Where would you get any scratch?”
“You don't believe me? Wait right here. I'll show you!”
Poor Alan. I guess that piece of brain he lost was more important than he thought.
Alan came back with the bag and dumped piles of money onto the table.
“Alan! You really are rich!”
“We could have a swell time together, baby.”
He pulled her to him. They kissed. And kissed. Their hands explored each other’s bodies.
The knife lay on the counter in easy reach.
Russell Richards shuffled the few papers in front of him and frowned. He called the bailiff over and said, “Frank, we only have three witnesses. Why don’t you go ahead and swear them all in?”
Richards looked at the papers again, but they didn’t make him any happier. He whispered to the stenographer. “I’ve been coroner for seventeen years and had maybe five inquests. Now two in a week. Well, let’s get started.
“Sheriff Witham, would you come forward?”
Witham ambled to the front of the room and took his seat beside Richards. “Sheriff, how did you learn of the death in question?”
“My office had a telephone call from a motorist. He said someone had flagged him down on the highway and asked him to call and tell me that there was someone dead at that house. Deputy Miller and I arrived and found the victim with a butcher knife in his back.”
“Was the victim dead when you arrived?”
“Yes. I mean, in my opinion. But Dr. Santiago arrived soon after and made it official.”
“Who was there when you arrived?”
“There was just Miss Floyd. She told us it was her that sent for us. She told us that she—”
“That’s all right, Sheriff. We’ll let her tell us about that. What else did you do?”
“Well, there wasn’t much to do but wait for the hearse. Deputy Miller stayed there and I brought Miss Floyd into town and took her statement.”
“Thank you Sheriff. We’ll hear from Dr. Santiago” Santiago walked slowly, almost reluctantly, forward and took his seat. “Now doctor, I have your report here and it has been entered into the record. You stated that you pronounced him dead at the scene.”
“That's right Mr. Richards.”
“And was he dead when you arrived?”
“Oh, yes. He was stabbed twice. The first blow severed an artery. The second was right through the heart.”
“Stabbed in the back?”
“Yes, sir. But not from behind. From the angle of the knife, I’d say Miss—I mean someone reached around from in front and drove the knife into him.” Santiago stood and turned his back to Richards and made a stabbing motion at his heart.
“Yes, that’s clear, Doctor.”
“The second wound missed the ribs, pierced the heart and, once it was in, was pulled a little to one side. I couldn't have placed it any better myself. The first wound might have killed him if he didn’t get any medical attention, but the second was almost instantly fatal.”
Richards cleared his throat.
“So there must have been a great deal of blood.”
“A very great deal.”
“Thank you, Doctor. That’s all.”
Richards wished he could stop there. He hated to question her, but he knew he had to.
“Miss Shirley Floyd, would you come up?”
People pretended not to stare as Shirley made her way to the front of the room and took the chair beside Richards.
“Uh, Miss Floyd, we’ve had testimony from the sheriff and the doctor, but I need for you to tell us in your own words what happened that day.”
“Yes sir. Well I guess you could say we were getting’ a little sweet on each other. I was makin’ sandwiches and he started kissin’ me. Well that was okay, I guess. But then he tried to go farther. I guess you know what I mean.”
Richards cleared his throat and looked down.
“Yes, Miss Floyd. Go ahead.”
“I told him to stop. I kept tellin’ him. He wouldn't stop. I tried to get away, but he was too strong. He dropped his pants. I felt the knife—”
“Yes, Miss Floyd. We’ve already heard the rest. Thank you. I know this isn’t easy for you. You can return to your seat now.”
Shirley managed a small, sad smile and got up.
“I think we have heard all we need to. Unless someone else has something to offer, I’ll give my verdict.”
No one had anything to offer.
Richards continued. “It is the finding of this inquiry that Miss Floyd acted in self-defence, and that no crime was committed. There is no basis for any criminal charges. Sheriff, would you check Mr. Smith’s belongings and see if there is any indication of a next of kin? Otherwise the county will be responsible for his burial. Court’s adjourned.”
The next morning Dr. Santiago was sitting on the sidewalk in the sun with his chair tilted back against the front of the drug store.
Across the street Shirley was trying to throw a duffle bag into the back of her truck.
“Let me give you a hand, Missy,” Lou said from behind her. He tossed the bag in and pushed it up against the back of the cab.
“Thanks, Lou.”
“I wish you wouldn’t go, kid. Anybody can sling hash, but I got to like havin’ you around.”
“Yeah, well it’s time for movin’ on. If I stay here I’ll always be the girl that killed the rapist.”
“Folks always find somebody to talk about. Don’t mean nothin’.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have to be her to listen to ’em. So long, Lou.”
As her truck raised dust going down the street, the druggist came outside and took a chair by Dr. Santiago.
“I got busy and missed court yesterday,” he said. “Ain’t that the gal that killed the crazy soldier?”
“That’s her.”
The druggist shook his head. “Some bad stuff went on in that house.”
“You don't know the half of it.”
“What do you mean, Doc?”
“Well, she said he dropped his pants, and that’s how I found him.”
“Yeah?”
“He bled like a stuck pig at first. The blood soaked his shirt and should have run down his thighs.”
“Sure.”
“Only it didn’t. It was soaked up by his pants which were down around his ankles when I got there.”
The druggist looked sidewise at Dr. Santiago.
“You mean she pulled his pants down after he was dead?”
“That’s how it looked to me.”
The druggist whistled.
“What did the sheriff say about that?”
Santiago shrugged.
“He saw everything I did. He didn’t ask my opinion.”
Santiago stood and looked down the road that led out of town.
“Maybe I should have said something. But Smith probably did murder Guy Nolan. Anyway, he was just another crazy drifter. Nobody’s going to miss him.”
Shirley was driving west. Maybe she’d go to Hollywood and see the sights. And the ocean. She’d never seen an ocean before.
She reached into the bag beside her and pulled out a bundle of banknotes and held it to her cheek. It felt cool against her skin.
#
Copyright 2019 D.J. Pass